The Maid For Pleasure Bundle 2 (3 page)

It was time to give in to what she wanted.

“Okay.”

I nodded dumbly. With my rising lust, just about everything she was saying made sense.

Milk secreted from her pillowy, huge tits, sliding down their mountainous slopes and slipping over my cock. Instantly, the meat grew from hard to
rock
hard. The milk was warm, soothing, utterly perfect. The most sublimely crafted lubricant that ever could have come into existence. I slid forward, letting out a soft, gentle moan.

Fuck. It was like sliding my cock through wet, warm air.

“Is that good, Sir?” She pushed her tits together, crowding the view of my cock. “Is it good for you when you fuck my milky tits?”

I was too turned on to answer verbally, but I knew she could tell from my mouth—god, yes.

Thrusting harder now, I slid through the easy, hot valley between her tits, going faster and faster now. The pleasure built up exponentially, feeling her incredible lovepillows pushing in on my cock. I had never experienced anything like this before. I needed to cum, and soon.

“Fuck, Vivian, you're going to make me...”

I breathed hard, trying to hold it in—but I couldn't.

I couldn’t help it, I came, spurting all over her face.

Her hands retreated from her tits momentarily to scoop up the cum all around her beautiful face. She looked orgasmic as she sucked it down.

“That’s so good, Master,” she moaned. “Won’t you do it again?”

Again? Ha. It had taken everything I had not to cum
immediately
after feeling her warm titflesh against my erection, there was no way I could build up enough reserves to fuck her again right away—especially after already cumming twice in the past little while!

I started to say just that, but then I looked down at my cock.

My still-hard, still-throbbing cock.

My...my
growing
cock. Pulsing and thickening, even already as hard as I had ever felt it be in my life.

Her...milk, it must have been. Somehow, all that milk on my cock was changing it.

Fuck, and I had drunk it down, too...drunk it for days, most likely! She had nursed me to health with it! And it had been on my skin. God, she could have fucking bathed me in it while I was sleeping, made me wear a suit of while I was healing.

Her mouth wrapped around my cock now, perfectly plush lips sliding over the head as I fucked forward, pushing deep into her mouth.

I wanted more. I slid up away from her tits and began to fuck her mouth—and her throat—as completely as I could. My transformed shaft pushed down her tight, restrictive throat. Her esophagus closed hard around the cockmeat, swallowing steadily as she sucked me harder and harder.

It was unreal, like I said, but already I was thinking of cumming again. My reserves seemed endless.

“You like that, you hot cunt?” I growled. “You like that?”

She moaned, affirming she
loved
having her throat fucked by me. I was almost all the way up on my haunches, driving down into her throat. My hands sank into her hot, long silky hair, twisting her head whichever way I wanted. Those big, beautiful blue eyes of hers had glazed over, her body completely at my mercy.

There was so much power in me—so much! I could
own
her entirely. The thought was orgasmic...and my body quickly capitalized on this.

The bliss spread outward hot and quick, even more powerful than the previous two loads. I came triumphantly, emptying myself down her hot, tight throat for the third time.

All those feelings of power, of strength, fled from me finally. Three orgasms was my limit. I collapsed on top of her body, sliding my cock out of her mouth before she choked. I couldn't believe what had just happened—the furious intensity of it all.

Slowly, she slid out from under me, and then wrapped her arms around my body.

“Sir,” she said, kissing my body with reverence, “is there anyone you could call to come and...help your recovery? I’m just one woman after all...and looking after a man, a stud, like you is a job for
multiple
women.”

I knew what she meant. If her milk could change my cock how it had, if it could alter my body so that it could heal from those wounds so quickly, then surely she could change other women too. She could probably make women just like her: hot, servile, willing, and horny as hell.

And god help me, I couldn’t resist in the slightest.

* * * * *

J
ust a few hours after I made the call, I heard the bikes pull up outside.

Angry, loud knocks signaled Nora's arrival properly. Much angrier and louder than the way a cop knocked, and with a whole hell of a lot more force behind it.

I had spent the last couple of hours on my feet. Contrary to the draining that my balls had experienced, courtesy of Vivian’s loving administrations, I felt better and more full of energy than I had in my entire life.

I had a small glass of her milk in one hand, sipping away at it cheerfully. Vivian had filled it up straight from the source, and I didn’t mind in the least. It tasted too goddamn delicious to get hung up on where it had come from, and its effects—to make me feel strong, full of energy, and completely virile—were too terrific to walk away from.

Vivian, originally, had thought I was going to call over my whole gang. She got
very
excited. She moaned in my ear about how I could order her to be the cum-receptacle for all the bikers. She wanted them
all
to fuck her.

The house I had inadvertently become the “Owner” of was enormous. Kind of a modern-day palace. The entry way was tiled with incredible marble, and sported a number of erotic-looking statues of big-titted women pouring water on one another. In the backyard there was a garden, complete with a number of gold fountains featuring sexy winged babes pleasing each other with orgiastic enthusiasm. All through the house were more and more pictures of evidence that whoever owned the house certainly was in love with sex; I could only assume that he had the maid delivered too early because he had gotten caught in some month-long orgy in some other country.

Vivian, who had attentively filed all his records in his absence, seemed to confirm this theory. He was single, with a great many ladies that he invited over with regularity. She had been taking messages for him; though since I had arrived, she had started to think of
me
as the owner and so had started to ignore any phone calls that would have been designated for him.

I answered the door in a thick, comfortable blue bath robe, not quite yet finding the will to put on clothes when Vivian was so ready at all times to service my cock. In fact, since I had called Nora, Vivian had sucked me off three more times, with my cock easily hardening just moments after, each time. I couldn't quite yet find the will to fuck her pussy—it just didn't seem right, yet, even though she was clearly willing.

It was hard to ignore the encroaching feeling that I was something of a god to Vivian. I felt like one, anyway. I wanted to hear her beg to call me one. It was the kind of testosterone-fueled, pleasure-enhanced thought process that a man felt whenever he was turned on to a certain degree; I was at that level of arousal virtually all the time.

The tall, redheaded, beautiful Nora was at the porch in front of the house, alongside the slender, blond, ballerina-like Willow. The driver of the other bike, and Nora's long-time lover.

“Hello, Nora,” I said, smiling. “Lovely to see you.”

She was all pointing and frowns. “Shut the fuck up and get me a drink. You wipe that smile off your fucking face, if you think I’m happy you’re still alive. I’m
not.
If you want to live past the next two minutes, you better start telling me why the fuck you made me drive out to Cherry Ridge. I
hate
this fucking part of town.”

Nora was the toughest woman I knew. Check that, she was the toughest
person
I knew, woman or man. She had gotten me out of more scrapes than I even care to mention.

“Hey Pace,” said Willow. “I
am
happy you’re still alive.”

Her smile was low and shy. Willow was a lovely, friendly girl. Some of the boys at the club, they raised a stink about Nora and Willow, being lesbians and all. And then Nora jammed a pool cue halfway down one bigot’s throat.

He turned out okay after a few weeks in the hospital. Can’t talk very loud, though—or maybe he just learned his lesson and doesn’t talk much anymore.

Anyway, nobody really said shit to Nora after that, and in fact nobody even says anything bad about her sexuality
ever
.

Say whatever you want about biker gangs, but we take violent lessons to heart.

I smiled at Nora. “Do you want me to shut up and get you a drink, or start talking?”

“
I’ll
get her a drink, Sir,” said Vivian, popping in from just beyond the entry. “Why don’t you all retire to the sitting room?”

Vivian wore, at my instruction, something a bit more modest than her usual fare. So, she had on a tiny, tight white dress that bared her tits and showed off her long, perfectly tanned legs. Tall blue acrylic heels were on her feet. As always, she wore a tiny apron, though this one was bright blue, to match her heels. And her eyes, I realized, admiring her with a orgasm-drunk smile.

“Yeah,” said Nora, eyeing Vivian carefully. “Why don’t we fucking do that?”

We began to move that way. As soon as Vivian left earshot, Nora grabbed my arm.

“Who the
fuck
is that and why the
fuck
is she calling you ‘Sir?’ Did you come back a fucking millionaire after returning from the dead?”

I ignored the question, not ready for that yet. “Good afternoon, Willow. Nice day for a ride?”

A cruel gesture on my part. I could see her start to answer, and then stop herself. Politeness dictated that she answer, and Willow was unfailingly polite. Something of an anomaly for our gang. A girl from a nice family who was hopelessly, desperately in love with Nora. She met Nora by chance in the hospital several years back after a particularly violent gun battle, nursing Nora back to health.

It was, in fact, something sort of like how Vivian met me, though with a little less crazy magic milk involved.

And it was Willow’s love, and obedience, to Nora that prevented her from answering. She knew Nora still had a bone to pick with me.

“Don’t
fucking
ignore me, Pace,” said Nora. “What the
fuck
are we doing here?”

We came to the sitting room and sat down. I was on one couch, the couple on the other. Nora leaned forward, her leathers creaking slightly. Fuck me, but she was a gorgeous woman when she was pissed. She was gorgeous all around, naturally, but when she was angry her cheeks flushed, and her green eyes blazed. Her breasts pushed hard against the tight white cloth of her top. Next to her, Willow crossed her long legs, her pale skin exposed in tight leather shorts and clunky, sexy boots.

I wanted Nora; I wanted both of them. My cock stirred, wanting to fill every section of their bodies that it could. I could almost feel Vivian’s breath in my ear, cheering me on while I fucked Nora and then Willow.

Impregnating them. Filling them with my cum. Pouring Vivian's milk down their throats and making them hotter and hotter as I drove harder and harder into their cunts.

I wanted that
so
bad. I loved Nora so very much. I knew I could protect her; I knew I could do everything for her that she needed.

Steel knew Nora was my friend, after all. It wouldn’t be long before he realized what a passionate loose cannon she was. She would take out her frustration—and her vengeance—on Steel when she realized everything that he had done. Now that I was alive, it was my responsibility to keep Nora, and therefore Willow, safe.

Vivian strolled in, wearing her tight, tiny uniform. I could read Nora
and
Willow’s arousal, instantly. For any admirer of the female form, Vivian was impossible to ignore.

“This drink is my own special recipe,” said Vivian, tits bouncing cheerfully. “Please do try some?”

Nora and Willow traded a suspicious glance, and then they each took a sip, out of courtesy, I suppose. And then quickly, just as I had, they each downed the glass.

“Fuck me, that’s delicious,” said Nora. “Another. For both of us.”

Vivian curtsied, smiling broadly. “Of course, madam.”

Nora watched her tight, toned ass appreciatively as she exited.

“’Madam,’ holy shit. What the fuck is happening here, Pace?”

“It’s a bit of a long story,” I began.

And so I started to explain the bank robbery, the double-cross, and winding up at that house. I left out, of course, the special properties of Vivian’s milk, and the particulars of my injuries. They each drank two more glasses as I spoke, Vivian delivering them diligently, not seeming to notice how gluttonously they sucked it down. I purposefully made my story longer than it needed to be, going off on tangents about everyone’s wardrobe and the nature of our firepower, the specific words said—or was it these other words? And so on.

By the time I was done, Nora and Willow both had a slightly dazed, glazed look on their faces. They believed everything I said—which was good. Other than what I had omitted, it was all the truth.

Nora was smart, though.

“Okay, okay,” she said roughly, trying to clear her throat. I don’t think she noticed, as I had, that her tight white top was already getting tighter, the locks of her hair becoming more vibrantly read. “Steel’s an asshole. Has been forever and ever. But what the fuck do you want us to
do
about it? We can’t really change fucking ten years of gang history all by ourselves. He’s...I mean, he fucking
owns
us. He owns the whole gang. If he wants you out, you’re out. Fuck it, I shouldn’t even
be
here, now that I think about it.”

She stood up, feet wobbling. The milk had hit her hard.

“Wait,” I said, taking a stern tone.

And she did. Obediently, she sat back down. I smiled. The milk was already taking effect.